In the time of Pericles, as every one knows, Athens attained her greatest glory. Magnificent buildings were erected, and in them were placed statues and other ornaments of most exquisite workmanship. Whilst the work was in progress, great encouragement was given to foreign merchants, who brought materials of various kinds, and especially ivory and metals. The laws against strangers were in a great measure relaxed, and they were enabled to prosecute their business with as much freedom as the citizens themselves. Even after the outbreak of the Peloponnesian war, and when fear of spies and treachery was natural, there was still a great concourse of foreign merchants in the port and the city.

But an event occurred which soon put to flight all strangers, and made Athens an object of the utmost dread. This was the great plague, of which Thucydides, the son of Oloros, has given a memorable account in his history.

A most remarkable incident, however, which is the key-stone of this narrative, he has omitted to notice, probably because, being incredible in its nature, he ascribed it to the invention of those whose minds had been affected by the horrors of the scene, and considered it to be unworthy of the dignity of his style and his careful adherence to truth.

A few days before the outbreak of the plague, a company of merchants, about a score in number, arrived at Athens. They gave out that their native land was Egypt, but they had been trading with many Grecian cities at peace with Athens. They seemed to be extremely wealthy, and their merchandise consisted mainly of ivory and gems. They had also abundance of gold and silver. They acted as if they did not speak or understand the Greek tongue, and always transacted their affairs by means of interpreters. They appeared to be very careless or ignorant in their bargains, often selling their wares for a much less price than, with a little trouble and inquiry, they might have obtained.

They made no purchases themselves, with one exception, and in this particular they were most fastidious and difficult to please. They showed the greatest anxiety to buy young female slaves, and they exercised the greatest care in the selection. They not only demanded beauty and health, but inquired carefully into their education and abilities. It was generally complained that it was impossible to satisfy the demands of the merchants, as they appeared to apply tests which neither the women nor their owners could understand.

As soon as the plague appeared, which happened first of all in the port, all foreigners, with the exception of these Egyptians, fled away in their ships. They, however, in spite of the dissatisfaction they expressed with the slaves offered for sale, not only lingered on, but appeared to be quite regardless of the dangers of infection.

Yet, in truth, both the disease and the circumstances of the plague-stricken city were such as to shake the courage of the bravest. For, as the historian narrates, suddenly, without any apparent cause preceding, people who seemed in perfect health were seized with an extreme ache in their heads, and redness and inflammation of the eyes; then inwardly their throats and tongues grew presently bloody, and their breath became noisome and unsavoury. Thereupon followed sneezing and hoarseness, and, not long after, the pain, together with a mighty cough, came down into the breast. As the disease spread, most dreadful weakness and, in most cases, strong convulsions ensued. The bodies of the afflicted outwardly to the touch were not very hot, but inwardly they so burned as not to endure the lightest clothes or linen garment, and they would fain have cast themselves into the cold water. Their thirst was insatiable, and those who were not looked after ran to the wells; but whether they drank much or little, they got neither ease nor power of sleep. Many suffered for seven or nine days, and then died of the inner burning, while yet their strength seemed undiminished; others survived the torment, and then died of weakness. Some escaped with the loss of their eyes or the extremities of the limbs, and others were so much stricken in mind that they remembered neither themselves nor their acquaintances. And the sickness, and the cruelty wherewith it handled each one, far surmounted all expression in words—it was so grievous and terrible.

But the greatest misery of all was the dejection of mind in such as found themselves beginning to be sick, for they grew presently desperate, and gave themselves over without making any resistance. Many died like sheep affected by mutual visitation; and some, forsaken and forlorn, for want of such as should take care of them.

The mortality was greatly increased by the crowds of country people who, on account of the war, had come into the city with their goods and chattels, and having no homes, they lived in stifling booths and in tents. Dying men lay tumbling one upon another in the streets, and about every spring and conduit. The temples, also, were full of dead, for, oppressed with the violence of the calamity, and not knowing what to do, men grew careless even of holy things. The laws which they formerly used touching funerals were all broken. When one had made a funeral pile, another getting before him would throw in his dead and give it fire. And when one was burning, another would come, and having cast therein him whom he carried, go his way again. Yet up to that time no feeling amongst the Athenians was more profound than their respect for the dead.

The city was filled with wailing, horror, and loathsomeness, but in the midst of despair there were frantic outbursts of outrageous pleasures. Licentiousness was unbridled, and men grasped at wild delights as if they held their lives but by the day. The rich died, and the poor, who had never dreamed of riches, slipped into their places, and, thinking they had not a moment to lose, made their only aim the speedy fruition of their goods. Neither the fear of the gods nor the laws of men awed any man. For it seemed all one, to worship or not to worship, seeing that all alike perished, and no one expected his life would last till he received punishment of his crimes by human judgment. Many thought that the whole city would be destroyed, and hastened to enjoy some little part of their lives. Women left their apartments, and, without friends or guardians, rushed to the temples or tried to flee from the pestilence beyond the city bounds. For all discipline was broken through, and all did what seemed good to them.

In spite of these dreadful scenes, the Egyptians showed no signs of haste or alarm, and seemed to regard the terror-stricken people with mingled curiosity and contempt. At first this conduct was ascribed to the gloomy nature of their religion, and to the fact that in their own cities the plague was said to be never altogether stifled. But gradually a rumour spread that they had in their possession some drug or charm by which they made themselves proof against the pestilence.

In a short time they were surrounded by a tumultuous throng of men and women. A deafening outcry arose of threats and entreaties. Some tried to embrace the knees of the merchants, and offered them masses of gold and precious stones; others shrieked like madmen, “Give us life,—save us!” Some, on the other hand, tried to terrify them with brandished weapons; whilst others, hoping more from prayers, threatened the threateners, and assumed the part of defenders of the strangers, appealing to Zeus, the god of hospitality.

As the tumult grew, and the pressure of the crowd increased, the merchants, speaking in an unknown tongue, seemed to address one who appeared to be their leader, in terms of remonstrance and expostulation, mingled, however, with respect and submission. No interpreter could be found, so that no one could understand what was said except vaguely from the looks and gestures of the speakers.

Suddenly, the leader made signs as if asking for silence and attention, and a thrill of astonishment passed through the crowd as he began to speak in a language which many of the people could, with a little difficulty, understand. It seemed an ancient dialect of Greek, in most respects like that used by Homer in his poems.

“Men of Athens,” he said, “ye wonder that we seem unmoved in the midst of this dreadful plague, and ye think that we have some charm or drug wherewith we defend ourselves from the infection. But we indeed are careless, because death by the pestilence seems to us no worse than the doom with which we are threatened if we escape. We come from a country beyond Egypt, and are the descendants of a remnant of Greeks who for many generations have been held in honourable captivity by the powerful princes of the land. We have preserved our own customs, and as ye see, our own language, and we have served as priests to our masters. And often the daughters of our race have been chosen as queens, and till a little time ago everything went well with us. Then certain Greeks appeared, who aroused the envy of our king and his princes by telling of the glories of Athens, and praising, most of all, the beauty and the wit of the Athenian women, and they have sent us, not only to bring back a faithful report of the grandeur of your city, but they have ordered us to bring a number of your most beautiful and best educated maidens, to become wives of the king and his nobles. In the meantime they hold those Greeks in captivity, and also our wives and children, and they have threatened us and them with dreadful punishment if we do not bring back the maidens; and we thought at first to purchase slaves, but we fear detection, for how can slaves make fitting queens? But now the plague which has struck down your people seems to offer us some hope of safety. For, perhaps, some of your maidens, being without protectors in this calamity, will themselves be willing to go with us, or their guardians, fearing the worst, will send them. And in token of our good faith, we have brought large stores of precious things to leave with you, and we will bind ourselves with great oaths that the maidens shall be dealt with in the most honourable manner. And as regards this pestilence, we can indeed offer you no certain cure, but we would earnestly warn you, knowing something of the matter by sad experience, that your only hope of safety is in avoiding crowds, and keeping as much apart as possible. But see for yourselves the truth of my words.” And as he spoke thus, several persons in the throng were suddenly taken with the plague, and terror seized on the rest, and they broke up and fled. Many of the maidens, however, remained, believing through the extremity of their fear that it was best for them to go with the Egyptians.

And although it would be easy for any one sitting quietly at home in the enjoyment of calm prosperity to consider the tale which they told as unworthy of credence, it was a very different matter under the actual circumstances of the case. And, as will appear in the sequel, there was as much truth as falsehood in the promises, and the falsehood was chiefly of that kind which consists in the suppression of truth. One thing at least was certain, and was calculated to impress the senses. They had undoubtedly a large amount of treasure, of which they seemed quite careless. Besides this, it was known that they had made endeavours to purchase female slaves for their purpose. But, above everything else, the minds even of men of courage and philosophers had been shaken in the terror, and it was natural for young maidens to believe in anything which seemed to promise them a chance of safety from a horrible death.

In a short time more than thirty of the fairest young women of Athens had promised to go on board the Egyptian vessel; and to these, that no doubt might shake them at the last, the leader told a thing still more wonderful. He said, with an appearance of the greatest secrecy, that they had a charm by which a small number could be protected against the plague, and that they had failed to mention this because its virtue would cease if applied beyond this small number. Then he painted, in the most glowing language, the delights and pleasures which would be their lot in the distant land. He also proceeded to terrify those whom he was unwilling to take, and the maidens he had chosen began to fear now that others might take their place, and promised to do all he bade them.